


avenge us; an infinity war fix-it fic

by kybcr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Temporary Character Death, Character Death Fix, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fix-It, Gen, INFINTY WAR FUCKING KILLED ME BUT I AM HERE TO FIX IT EVERYTHING IS FINE, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kybcr/pseuds/kybcr
Summary: i'm only gonna say this once. INFINITY WAR SPOILERS. DO NOT READ ON IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED. I'M SERIOUS. DON'T WHINE ABOUT SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS. I SAID THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. IT'S A FUCKING INFINITY WAR FIX-IT FIC, I'M NOT SURE WHY YOU WOULD CLICK THIS AND NOT EXPECT SPOILERS.DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.basically i'm so goddamn shaken by this movie on the way home from the theatre i started planning a fix-it fic. no one is permanently dead; if someone dies, they get revived later in my version of events.accordingly, a lot of events have been rearranged, and several characters are at different places at different times. in the movie there were sort of "squads" on different planets where things were happening, like strange+stark+quill+nebula+drax+mantis+parker, and thor+rocket+groot. some of these have been moved around, so that different characters are in different "squads"not beta read, there may be typos.





	1. no cards left to play

**Author's Note:**

> right at the beginning of the movie, on the sanctuary, seen from Loki's point of view. he makes a decision to save himself.
> 
> (his death left me in shock for the entire movie. he's the one thing the drew me into the MCU seven years ago, if it weren't for him i would never have been a Marvel fan. and now he's dead. i've had multiple blogs and instagram accounts about him, read and written hundreds of Loki-centric fic, done several school projects on Loki. i went through the 2012 insane hiddlestoner phase. and now it's all over. he's the character i am so emotionally invested in. out of every death in this movie, Loki's affected me most, and that moment was the only time i've ever cried in a movie. sorry. i went off on some unrelated tangent. his death was the exact moment that spurred me on to write this. i just had to fix it.)

o. no cards left to play

The Sanctuary

Loki is not sure how everything happened so fast. Minutes ago— had it been minutes, even?— he had been standing next to Thor, who, for all their family problems, was still his brother and the person he trusted to be by his side the most. They had been facing the massive reinforced window, watching the monster of a ship approaching them. 

It dwarfs even their stolen ship that was large enough to hold Asgard’s entire population. 

A population which is now largely decimated. 

Minutes. Just minutes, and even with full defenses engaged, their ship has been torn into ribbons of metal with the ear-splitting, horrible sound of ripping metal.

Engine failure is followed by a critical breach in the airlock. Loki is surrounded by commotion, sounds, the chatter of millions of terrified people drowning out a blaring, insistent alarm. He sprintes full-pelt to the damaged area, not looking back to see if Thor follows or not. Probably not. Thor is strong, but Loki has always been faster than him.

The ship has never been silent, even when the day-cycle was set to night and people should have been sleeping, and Loki has grown used to falling asleep to the sound of distant talking, waking to hear footsteps, and spending the day with noise constantly in the background. That was just the way it was when an entire planet’s worth of people was crammed onto a ship that hadn’t been designed for permanent residence. 

When the airlock was first breached the noise rises to panicked, constant, unrelenting shouting- but then the vacuum of space rushes in and there is suddenly silence.

It is as if cotton has been abruptly clapped over Loki’s ears. The floor falls away and he briefly remembers falling from the Rainbow Bridge, but he is not falling. He is floating.

People float around him, still as statues. Corpses. They froze solid as soon as they had been exposed to space, and Loki feels mildly nauseous. 

At least it had been a quick, relatively painless end for them. Only after a few moments does Loki wonder why he is not dead too. He squints down at his palms, and after a few seconds he accepts that he is not hallucinating and that his skin has indeed turned blue. He also doesn't seem to be suffocating. 

For some reason, he's a little disappointed. The knowledge that he is not Aesir but Jotünn, and a Jotünn prince at that, has always been there in the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to forget it. Yet part of him almost wishes he was dead with everyone else, frozen in a flash without even knowing what was about to happen. 

Just his luck, then, that Frost Giants are built to withstand extreme cold, as well as to survive without oxygen for prolonged periods. What a joke. The bloodline that caused the entire mess, from Loki trying to massacre the Frost Giants to the New York invasion, has now saved his life. 

With some degree of delayed, somewhat dull panic, Loki realizes the ruins of the ship are drifting away from him. Or perhaps he's drifting away from it. Either way, his senses and thoughts feel a little muffled. 

Suddenly, a face slides straight into his field of vision. Loki flinches out of instinct, then slowly lets his eyes open. As if it would go away if he closed his eyes, and it would be back as soon as he opened his eyes to look. What a childish notion. 

The face’s expression is one of shock— wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and a mouth shaped into a scream. The skin is a pallid grey and crusted with ice crystals. 

Far too slowly for Loki's liking, the rest of the corpse drifts past him, as if possessed. 

Thor probably won't check for survivors. He probably won't even remember that Frost Giants can survive extreme cold and no oxygen, much less associate it with outer space. But he might think to retrieve Loki’s body. 

Loki uses a piece of torn metal dangling from the ship to drag himself back onboard, but what he finds is worse than floating amongst corpses. 

Inside the airlock, the ship’s gravity system is still functional. Which means the bodies are now carpeting the floor. 

Four figures stand amongst the piles of corpses. 

_The Black Order._

_Which means…_

_Thanos._

Loki’s debts had finally caught up to him. Six years ago, he had lost the Chitauri Scepter and failed to retrieve the Tesseract for the Other, who served Thanos. Since then, he had been running constantly, faked his death, disguised himself as Odin, but the fear had never gone away.

Barely a day ago, he had taken the Tesseract from Asgard’s royal vault before the planet had been destroyed by Surtr. 

A cloud of smoke clears to reveal a figure, twice as tall as Loki. Broad-shouldered and clad in gleaming armor. 

Thanos, the Mad Titan, turns to face him, but Loki's eye is drawn to what's in his hand. 

He's gripping Thor’s head tightly. Too tightly. His fist closes, and the voice that echoes across the silent ship is deep and bone-rattling. 

“I'm sure you know how this works, Loki. You give me the Tesseract, and your brother lives.”

He swears he can see tears in Thor’s eyes, but he's too far away to be sure.

“We don’t have the Tesseract. It was on Asgard,” chokes Thor weakly. 

_You fool,_ thought Loki. If the Tesseract had been on Asgard when Surtr burned it to the ground, the entire galaxy would have blown up with it.

Thanos raises Thor a little, letting his body dangle. Then he squeezes. 

Loki grits his teeth. He can do this. He can let one person die to save the rest of the universe, can’t he? He wants so badly to look away, to turn around and run, but his eyes are fixed on Thor.

A low whine escapes from Thor’s mouth. It rises, until it’s a hoarse scream. Earsplitting. His face is contorted in pain, and Loki thinks his eyeballs might be popping out. 

Loki looks up for a split second at Thanos. He looks bored, maybe even a little amused. 

_He thinks this is funny. He’s waiting for me to give in._

Thor is thrashing about like a fish out of water now, screaming.

Finally, Loki decides that there are some things he can't afford to lose. Not Thor. Not his brother. So with trembling fingers, he lets the Tesseract materialize in his outstretched hand. 

“For one, I'm not his brother,” remarks Loki. He's scared shitless at this point. He can't even convince himself that he's faced worse before, like he usually does, because now he's literally standing in front of the most powerful being in the entire universe. 

But not all is lost. Yet.

“And two: we have a Hulk.”

The green monster charges forth, bellowing in rage. Thanos is tackled brutally to the floor, then takes several vicious punches. Loki reacts accordingly, letting the Tesseract dematerialise and rolling away. 

_Surely it can't be this easy?_

The tallest one of the Black Order raises his hand, but the woman with the black headdress whispers something to him and he lowers his spindly fingers.

That is when Loki realizes that Thanos is merely playing with the Hulk. Having some fun.

The Mad Titan raises his massive, gauntleted fist, and before the Hulk can react slams in into the side of his head. There’s a loud _crunch._

With a sickening, final _thud_ , the Hulk falls to the floor, and does not rise.

Loki’s heart is hammering in his chest. The Hulk was his last resort. He has no more cards to play… except for one. 

He makes his decision. Doing the right thing, even if it resulted in his death, was Thor’s thing. Loki could not sacrifice his life for a meaningless cause.

Trembling, he forces his face into a smile that feels more like a grimace. 

“Well,” he remarks, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “I’m not a hero. I know when to cut my losses. So…”

Loki can almost feel Thor’s eyes watching him as he kneels before Thanos. Imploring him. He probably isn’t even surprised— after all, Loki has always been the practical one, looking out for his own life above others. Maybe Thor even knew that Loki would betray him. Again.

“I, Loki, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, and rightful King of Jotunheim, the God of Mischief, do pledge my undying fidelity to you. I will give you the Tessarect, provided you don’t harm Thor.”

Thanos' expression does not change.“Undying loyalty."

"Perhaps you could prove it?” he muses.

A chill runs down Loki’s back. He’s suddenly aware of the Black Order circled around him. The woman points her weapon at his head, and the circle tightens around him. Like hunters circling a cornered animal about to bolt.

“Prove you’ll be truly loyal to me. You lost my Mind Stone, so obviously I can no longer use that to keep you in check, and it took you six years to bring me the Tesseract. What a shame. But i will forgive you, and spare your life, if you prove to me that you can cut all personal ties.”

Even before he says it, Loki knows what Thanos is going to say. 

“Kill your brother.”

His eyes flutter shut. 

Loki was supposed to trade the Tesseract for Thor’s life. A barter, simple enough in theory. Not worth it, maybe. 

But of course there is no way that Thor can be allowed to survive, not with the potential for him to wield the prophesied weapon Stormbreaker and kill Thanos. Perhaps Thanos even knew that Loki was half hoping Thor would survive and eventually kill him. 

Loki can kill Thor, hand over the Tesseract, and survive. His other option is to refuse to kill Thor, withhold the Tesseract, and die. Thor will be killed regardless.

Well, he certainly knows what he would rather prefer.

Slowly, he rises. Once he meets Thor’s gaze, Loki wants to look away, but he does not break his stare. He can almost hear Thor’s voice begging him not to, telling him that the fate of the universe is worth more than his own life. Of course, he wouldn’t care about his own life. If Thor was in Loki’s place, he would have refused to kill his brother, tried to kill Thanos in a misguided attempt at heroism, and been killed himself. 

Loki can’t let Thor die to save the universe, but he can let Thor die to save himself. How disappointed Odin and Frigga would be— but then, they only raised Thor to be a hero. Loki was left to grow up in his brother’s shadow, and things that are born and raised in the dark can never find their way to the light. 

Loki is not a hero.

If he does it any slower, if he leaves time for last words and goodbyes, then Loki knows that he won’t be able to make himself do it. So he palms a long, thin dagger and throws it in the space of a half second.

He’s half hoping it misses or bounces off his skull, but his aim is true. As always. 

The dagger buries itself to the hilt in Thor’s remaining eye. Into his brain.

Thor can’t even see Loki in his last moment.

_Sorry, brother._


	2. turn back the clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter sorry i have exams i'm suffering

o1. wind back the clock

New York Sanctum

“Sorcerer Supreme” seems like a bit of a misinforming title. Loki can tell that Stephen Strange is a man who isn’t comfortable with magic to the point that he has to be using it constantly, for trivial, useless things, just to prove that he can. 

Magic should be an aid, a means to an end. Not a gods-damned constant light show to impress others.

As if any cheap tricks can impress Loki, God of Mischief and Illusions. Magic is literally in his job description.

Unfortunately, there is still magic that is locked to Loki, magic that only one being in the world can use. Time magic.

“So what you’re saying is,” says Strange, “you need my help.”

Loki restrains the urge to roll his eyes. Trust this egotistical bastard to make it sound like he was doing Loki a favor. “Five hundred million people, plus my brother, need your help.”

“How do I even know you’re here with honest intentions? The way I see it, you’re trying to lure me to Thanos so he can have the Time Stone, which is kind of the exact opposite of what I want. And for the most part, I have the interests of the entire universe at heart.”

Norns, this man is insufferable. “So you’re not going to save them. Including Thor, who could have wielded the legendary Stormbreaker, which, I may have mentioned, could have killed Thanos? Could still wield it, if he were alive? While you have the power to make that happen? Do you really have the best interests of this universe at heart, then?” snaps Loki.

Before Strange can reply, Loki barrels on. “Weren’t you a surgeon? You’re supposed to save lives. But now you’re not even going to try.”

“Don’t try to appeal to my humanity,” warns the sorcerer. “There’s not much of it left.”

Loki remains silent. He gets the sense that this man is very difficult to bully into doing anything— he has to agree to it voluntarily. Magic can be very fickle when the user is being forced to use it; something could go wrong. Or the Sorcerer could try to mess with Loki.

Finally, the Sorcerer breaks Loki’s glare. “Fine,” he says with a huff. “I’ll save you damn Asgardians. But you owe me one, you’d better remember that.”

When had saving millions of lives suddenly become a matter of exchanging favors? 

Loki had a better idea of why this man had once been a surgeon now. He saved lives for the same reason he flaunts his magic now like a madman: to prove that he could, not out of any compassion. Given the wrong influence, Stephen Strange could have been a very dangerous person. An enemy Loki certainly wouldn’t want to be on the opposite site of.

***

Time unfurls before his very eyes.

The noise is deafening; somehow, Loki didn’t expect so much sound, despite the memory of tearing metal and terrified screams still so fresh in his memory. But now the noise sounds as if it’s being sucked backwards, and he honestly thinks it sounds worse. Sounds wrong.

Pieces of metal curl back into shape, as if wrapped around a mold and pressed by a massive hand. Shattered pieces reassemble neatly— it’s even a little therapeutic to watch. Or it would be, if not for the noise.

Bodies still float freely through space, frozen solid. They’re abruptly sucked back into a hole in the mostly-reassembled ship, then a piece of jagged metal slams on top. Almost like water going down a drain.

Part of Loki is not sure whether simply rewinding the time can really bring back a life, reanimate them and restore their soul which should already be in Helheim. He’s suddenly seized with the suspicion that it won’t work and that they will have to deal with a ship full of living, soulless zombies (imagine a Thor at full power, with lightning and Aesir strength, but _no soul_ ) but he quashes the fear. The Sorcerer Supreme must have done this before. He must know it works— he’s arrogant, yes, but not the kind of man who will blindly go through with a plan if he doesn’t know every potential outcome. That’s important for a former neurosurgeon.

The Sorcerer looks unfazed. He probably messes with time magic all the time, for useless things like sleeping in. 

Finally, after what feels like an age, the ship’s ruins have folded back together. It’s truly a wonder to behold; somehow, it didn’t feel as fantastical when he was _inside_ this ship, but looking at it from outside leaves him with a distinct feeling of smallness. 

“Thank you,” murmurs Loki, but the Sorcerer Supreme has already vanished.

***

Loki has no idea what he should be doing. Should he act as if nothing has happened? Should he hug Thor? It’s so painful to see him alive and well, when the last image Loki has of him in his memory is with a dagger buried in his eye.

“Loki! What happened?”

“What do you remember?” says Loki, after a long pause.

“We were watching Thanos’s ship, and then… I’m not sure. I blacked out?”

 _Thank the Norns,_ thinks Loki, then immediately he feels guilty for even being thankful that Thor doesn’t know that Loki killed him. But what was he even supposed to say? _By the way, Thanos told me to kill you so I threw a knife into your eye, sorry about that?_

“Well,” says Loki carefully, choosing his words, “Thanos destroyed our ship and killed everyone. You included. I asked that Midgardian wizard to reverse time and bring you back.” 

“How did you survive?”

A long moment passes. One second, two seconds.

What the Hel is he supposed to tell Thor?

“I…” he begins awkwardly. 

“What have you done, Loki?” murmurs Thor softly.

The words come out in a rush. “I swore fealty to Thanos,” he snaps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Loki, you _idiot_ —”

Guilt hits him like a punch to the chest. Words bubble up inside him: he had to, it was Loki’s life on the line, there was nothing else he could have done, but half of them are lies. He didn’t have to. He could have prevented Thanos from getting the Tesseract. He might have doomed the universe in giving up the Tesseract.

“I know,” he says wearily, cutting Thor off. “Do me a favor, Thor. Go to Nidavellir. Forge Stormbreaker and kill Thanos. Kill me, too, if you have to.” _If he makes me kill you again._

Soon, Thanos will know that the Sorcerer Supreme turned back time and saved Asgard, revived Thor. He’ll come back to kill them all again, but first, he’ll hunt for the Time Stone.

The Sorcerer saved his brother, and Loki repays him by painting a target on his back. 

“Stay,” implores Thor. “We’ll be more careful this time. The ship broadcasted a distress signal,, someone might come to help us. Thanos can’t hurt you here. I won’t let him.”

Loki ignores him. “Find your Avengers. Tell them Thanos is coming for Earth, for the Time Stone.” He pauses, again, then says what he’s been thinking the whole time. For hours, barely, but it feels like days. It feels like it’s constantly pressing in on his thoughts, to the point that it feels more like an concept than a string of words.

“I’m sorry, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see i keep my promises i revived thor


	3. tried to love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for late update i have exams also you may have noticed my writing is getting progressively shittier and shittier i apologize for that too

o2. tried to love you

The wind is cold and biting, tugging at Gamora’s thin leathers— but she ignores it. The way she and Nebula had been trained when they were little; ignore the cold, the heat, focus on the task at hand. 

Right now, she had no idea what the task at hand even is. She and Thanos (she refuses to think of him as her father) stand at the edge of a cliff. She feels like she’s standing on the edge of a metaphorical cliff too, right about to topple. Into what, she doesn’t know, but something tells her she should be on edge. Well, more on edge than being next to the Mad Titan who kidnapped her and tortured her sister to find the planet they were on right now should make her.

“A soul for a soul. You must sacrifice something that you truly love, for the Soul Stone.”

For a split second, Gamora almost looks up at Thanos. She hopes,  _ begs _ , that he isn’t thinking what she is thinking. Desperately, she tries to hold her voice steady and attempts to sound triumphant.

“You never loved anyone! You see? You killed so many for those stones, and the thing that prevents you from getting the Soul Stone— is love!” she spits, trying to force a laugh that sounds strangled and hysterical. But tears are welling up in her eyes, her body betraying her own thoughts. 

Gamora’s only memories of her mother are vague flashes. Once Thanos took her, he occupied every single one of her waking moments. When she said she missed her mother, Thanos would reassure her that it was better with him, that he would love her like no one else had, and that if she had stayed with her mother she would surely be dead. It didn’t seem like he was saying her mother was incapable of taking care of Gamora, but that was the idea that had slowly built in her mind. Somehow, he had convinced her that he was the only one who had her best interests at heart. Even more than she herself did. So she had let him turn him into the assassin he needed, until at some point she had realised (or maybe it had been over the course of several years, she wasn’t sure) that he hadn’t raised her as a child, he had raised her as a soldier. 

Temperatures can be measured in numbers. So can fuel supplies, days passed, kills made. But there is no way of measuring  _ emotion. _ Maybe Thanos loves her genuinely, but does he  _ really  _ care? If he does, does he love her  _ enough?  _ Enough to trade her for the Soul Stone? Pity she couldn’t just point a machine at him and have it tell her how much he loved her on a scale of one to ten. 

A strange expression is on his face. It takes Gamora a moment to recognise it: it’s sorrow. An expression she’s seen many times from when she was an assassin, right before she’s about to kill her target. Usually they just look scared and beg for mercy, but sometimes they accept that they’re about to die. Sometimes they just look sad, mourning their life cut short while they’re still alive.

Are those tears welling up in his eyes?

She can’t let him have the Soul Stone. There is one thing, the  _ last _ thing she can do, the only shred of autonomy she has left. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her little dagger, tucked into Thanos’ belt. With the lightning-quick reflexes she never lost even after she ran away from him, she yanks it out, and in one fluid motion, flicks it open and plunges it into her chest.

Or she tries to.

The weight of the dagger has vanished from her hands. Once she opens her palms a cloud of bubbles float away from her fingers.

_ No. _

Gamora’s screams are loud, but everything still feels muffled. Like her ears are a mile away from the rest of her body, and so is her brain.

“Please! Thanos! Please, daddy, please, I’m sorry! I love you! You love me! You do, that’s why you’re doing this! Don’t you love me enough to let me live?” 

The words pour out of her mouth like she’s a bottle that’s been uncorked suddenly. She doesn’t even know what’s she’s saying, what she’s trying to achieve. Some of it feels true, but some of it also might be bullshit she’s making up to save herself.

It’s like she’s six years old again and watching half of her planet die. She’s nine years old and he’s looking down at her, disappointed, because she tried to run away, and she feels guilty, though she knows she shouldn’t be guilty for wanting her own freedom. Eleven, and she kills her first target. A day before Nebula did. She didn’t talk to her for three months, but it was okay because her Daddy was so proud of her. He gave her a new sword as a reward. Fifteen years old and she’s watching Nebula’s arm being replaced with a metal one. She’s barely recognisable now, but somehow Gamora never made the connection between her successes where Nebula had failed, with Nebula becoming more cyborg than flesh. Eighteen, and she wonders why she ever felt like she wasn’t free with Thanos. With her father.

_ Daddy, please, you can’t do this, if you ever loved me, if you really love me- _

She’s being dragged bodily now, but it’s like she’s moving through molasses with her ears plugged. The edge of the cliff comes closer, rushes at her suddenly-

and then she’s falling.

***

And then she’s… not.

Gamora is on the edge of the cliff. Again. Her vision seems to be stained a little green, but it fades away quickly.

Momentarily she thinks  _ he did it, Daddy saved me, _ but she remembers falling. Remembers seeing the rock-stippled cliff face fall away from her, far too fast, and a brief, horrible, bone-shattering flash of pain. But it was over before she had time to open her mouth to scream.

Thanos’ voice brings the last scattered threads of her thoughts back together. “You were wrong, little one.”

Gamora really wishes he would stop calling her that. Partly because it’s patronising and she’s not a child anymore, but mostly because it makes her feel like she’s at home.

She waits for him to explain, but instead Thanos takes her hand and leads her away from the cliff. Thinking back to what she said— what is she wrong about? — she cringes internally when she remembers the things she said. What she’d screamed while being dragged to her death. 

“ _ You love me, you do—” _

Was that it? Had Thanos never loved her? Had Gamora’s father never loved her?

So somehow, she had been brought back. The red-faced man in the hood had said  _ a soul for a soul. _ If Thanos didn’t get the Soul Stone, then Gamora’s soul would have been restored to life, too.

She should be grateful— and she  _ is,  _ grateful that she’s not dead and that he doesn’t have the Soul Stone, but…

...part of her really thought that Thanos loves her. The same way that she loves him.

***

Curled into a ball, Gamora lies awake, staring at the distant roof of the ship. She tried to climb all the way up to the roof once, but she fell and broke her leg. Thanos wiped her tears and bandaged her leg himself.  _ Someday, you’ll reach the roof, little one, _ he’d said gently.  _ You can do anything you set your mind to, if you keep trying. _

Gamora had kept trying. But she had never managed to run away. She promised herself, though, that no matter how many times it took, one day she could be free of Thanos. Like chipping away at a mountain with a chisel and hammer.

A soft noise startles her, and she looks up to see Nebula in the doorway, a mix of unreadable emotion painted on her face. It got harder and harder to tell how she was feeling over the years, whether because Nebula stopped showing emotion or because her face was so cybernetically enhanced that it was incapable of expressing it, but Gamora has always been able to tell what her sister is feeling.

“Get up,” she rasps. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Wordlessly, trusting in Nebula, she swings herself off the bed and joins her. Together, they sprint down the hallways, like they used to when they were little, but this time Gamora has an unshakable sense that something is chasing them. Time is chasing them. She pushes herself to run faster.

“Where to?” she asks breathlessly. 

“Titan. I contacted Quill and his crew, they should be meeting us there.”

Gamora’s heart leaps a little (or maybe it’s just beating fast from the running.) She’s going to see Peter again.

Thanos didn’t love her enough to kill her. Peter loved her too much to kill her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh i don't have a photographic memory so some quotes are probably a little different from what was said in the actual film, don't nitpick about it i only watched IW twice


	4. stuck on loop

o3. stuck on loop

Over and over again, Stephen Strange tells himself that whatever it takes, he will see this world safe in the end. He has the Time Stone. No matter how many tries it takes, he can try again and again. 

Like he had with Dormammu. Sometimes he dreams that he's up there again, dying again and again, counting— no,  _ chanting—  _ his own deaths to stay sane. 

And always, the whisper in the back of his mind:  _ it's time to give up.  _

_ It's not going to work.  _

_ You're just wasting time.  _

And then the other voice, insistent but growing weaker every time he died:  _ keep going. Be patient.  _

And he has been patient. But he has seen fourteen million futures stemming from this moment, and thus far… nothing.

There  _ must _ be one where he doesn't have to give up the Time Stone to win. Where half the world doesn't have to die. 

Stephen is right about to look into the futures stemming from a slightly different point, when he's violently jolted out of the timestream. 

Stark asks him how many futures he saw. 

“Fourteen million.”

Stark is, no doubt, a man of science. He knows what a million means, rather than just having a general idea of it being “quite a lot” like most of the general public. 

“How many where we win?” he asks, though Stark’s expression indicates that he's not sure if he even wants to know. 

After a long pause, Stephen lowers his head. “One.”

And it was the one where he had to give up the Time Stone and let half of the world die first.

Briefly, he considers adding,  _ but there might be more possibilities. I didn't see all of them before you interrupted me,  _ but decides against it.

Even if there  _ was  _ another way to win, they would have to be astronomically lucky to reach it. Ridiculously so. As a neurosurgeon Stephen had never accepted the cases with no chance of recovery, or a chance so small that it wasn't worth wasting his time and effort. For the fate of the universe, he’s willing to hold out hope… but at some point he has to know when to give up. 

***

It's working. Somewhat. 

So far, Stephen has watched the others die four hundred and thirty eight times. 

Stark has died seventy-two more times than the others. Self-sacrificing fool. 

He's on the five hundred and eighth try. Every time someone dies, he turns back time to where it all went wrong.

Someday they'll reach the right future. 

***

The worst thing is having to watch them die over and over again, turning back time, and seeing them alive and determined again. Seeing then hopeful. He almost envies them for their ignorance. 

(If someone told Stephen he wish to be ignorant back when he was a neurosurgeon, he would have suggested that they try a course of antipsychotic medicines.)

They've battled against Thanos thirty five thousand, six hundred and forty two times now. And if they notice that the shadows under Stephen’s eyes seem darker, that his gaze seems glassier every time they try again, no one comments on it. No one even notices. Once, the kid, with the spider abilities, looked at him and seemed about to say something. But he doesn't know. None of them know that they died. That he watched them die so many times. He didn't even tell them he was going to use the Time Stone to make sure they all lived in the end. 

When they do win,  _ if _ they do win, they're just going to think that they're extremely lucky to have reached the one in fourteen million futures. They might even laugh and make toasts. Stephen will play along, praise their good fortune, and no one will ever know how much death he had to witness to make their “good luck” happen. 

At some point it's almost too draining to even pretend to be trying to kill Thanos. Too much of a hassle to put in the effort. 

Stephen is tired. So tired. But for the sake of the universe, for Stark, for the kid, for the Guardians of the Galaxy, he keeps trying. 

And, truth be told, the other reason he's still trying is because in the future where he gives up the Time Stone and half of the universe dies before Thanos is stopped, Stephen is part of the half that dies. He's scared of dying.

He cocks his head and tries to put some sense of bravado into his voice. 

“You want the Time Stone? Come and get it.”

***

Two million, nine hundred and three thousand, one hundred and fifty six attempts. 

Dormammu had given in after just over nine hundred and fifty thousand times. 

Stephen is playing a little game with himself now. He bets on how Thanos will kill the others every time he turns back time and tries again. Crushing their skulls, snapping their necks, throwing rocks on them, or throwing  _ them _ on  _ rocks.  _

It's morbid. This would have been unthinkable to him when he was a surgeon. But Stephen is so exhausted. This little game was to keep his brain from completely shutting down and running on autopilot since a few thousand attempts ago, but he can still feel himself dissociating. As if his mind is a mass of drying cement, it's like his thoughts are stagnating. There's nothing to think about while he lets Thanos kill his companions over and over again. 

He's been thinking, for a while now, whether he could just turn back time, all the way back to before he was on Titan. (When had he started thinking of his life like that? Before Titan and on Titan? He wonders how much time he's spent on this planet now. Maybe he should count the minutes a few times, average them, and calculate approximately how much time he's been on Titan. It would certainly give his worn-out brain something to do.) 

Back to before he even became the Sorcerer Supreme, before the car crash that ruined his career. He could live out his life as a neurosurgeon, never even think of the mystic arts again. 

At first, he told himself he could never go back to such a mundane life after living in a world filled with danger and magic. (And also because the world would probably have ended by now if he wasn't here to stall Thanos, but that thought is somewhat secondary.)

But now, it seems like a pretty appealing idea.

***

Stephen has lost count. 

He's never, ever, lost count before. Even in his childhood, counting sheep and people and test scores, not once has he lost count. Actually, he didn't even understand how anyone could possibly lose count until now. 

And they're close, so tantalizingly close, that perhaps he doesn't need to count anymore. For the first time in probably thousands of years worth of attempts, he lets himself hope. A bit of feeling is creeping back into his numb brain. 

The gauntlet is almost off. Thanos is struggling, but they're  _ so goddamn close.  _

And it's all for nothing. 

This isn't how it should go. In the one future where they beat Thanos in the end, Stephen gives up the Time Stone. Half the universe dies first. He never saw a future where they could kill Thanos before he acquired all of the stones. 

_ Maybe it's another future where all of us live. One that I didn't see, _ he thinks desperately. But in every future where they try to remove the gauntlet, they fail. Thanos overpowers Mantis; no empath can control the Mad Titan for long enough. In other futures, the more frustrating ones, Stephen, who holds Thanos down while the others pull the gauntlet, passes out from exhaustion. 

He feels close to passing out. But not yet. Not  _ now.  _

And so he watches Thanos swat aside Mantis, effortlessly knock aside Stark as he tries to charge up his arc reactor, dodges blaster shots and spider silk and blades. 

They all die. 

Twice. Another time. A few more. Every time, they're right about to get the Gauntlet off— and then Thanos slaps them aside like flies. 

Stephen is too tired. 

He's only watched them all die a few hundred times after getting close to removing the gauntlet, but whether it is because of built-up exhaustion or just frustration at having come so close for nothing, he gives up. 

Stephen thinks Thanos might even look a little sorry for them as he hands over the Time Stone. 

_ It was the only way.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> placeholder note will edit later


	5. watch your back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even when you're the most powerful being in the universe, you should watch your back.

o4. watch your back

Only now does Loki realize how many defenders of Midgard there are. Stood in a line, there must be almost 30 facing Thanos, as well as Wakanda’s massive army and the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj. 

The six Avengers are at the center. Old resentment finds its way back to the forefront of his mind. Six years ago isn’t so long for Loki, being over a thousand years old— merely a blink of an eye. In a few hundred years Loki might not even remember Midgard. 

If he lived past today.

They're working like a well-oiled machine, ready to die together defending Midgard against the Mad Titan. How poetic; no wonder Thor, the warrior of which epic ballads and legends are told, is so attached to them. 

What a waste of time. 

Most of their expressions look taken aback, but not completely surprised, that Loki is standing next to Thanos. Of course. To them, he's still the insane, murderous psychopath who attacked New York. Perhaps they even know that it was Thanos who sent Loki.

And did they know that it was Thanos who tortured him, calling it salvation, till he lost his mind and conquering Earth did seem like a sensible idea and also a good way to spite Thor?

“Brother…” rumbles Thor, imploringly. “It's not too late, Loki. You don't have to be on his side. You could join us.”

Absently he notes that Thor has two eyes again, then remembers his own knife buried to the hilt into his left eye. 

“I've made my choice, Odinson,” spits Loki sharply, shaking off the memory. 

And indeed he has.

Loki palms the blue twin daggers that Frigga gave him for his thirteenth birthday. The steel is cold in his sweating hands, but not as cold as he imagines Thor thinks his heart is right now.  
The logical target would be Thor first, obviously, being the one with Stormbreaker. 

But perhaps he should go for the weakest link first to create a gap in their line of defense. (Excuses, obviously, that he's telling himself so that he doesn't have to kill Thor. Yet.) 

The sniper, probably, the one they called Hawkeye. He probably is more used to being far away from the front line, picking off priority targets. 

Loki knows that he has a wife and children waiting for him in a country home.

If Loki were to kill him, instead of Thanos, perhaps there would be enough of him left to send home in a coffin. 

In one fluid, practised, motion, he raises the knife—

and drives it into Thanos’ neck. 

Or he tries to. 

The blue glow of the Space Stone pulses around them, holding the tip of his knife back. He strains with effort trying to hold it in place, blade is forced aside all the same, till it falls out of his grasp and clatters onto the floor. 

Loki is seized with the urge to turn around to look at Thor’s expression. The wide-mouthed, goofy half-grin that he always wears when Loki’s just pulled off a clever trick. It never gets old, making Thor laugh, even at his own expense.

Thanos’s gauntleted hand snatches Loki around the neck, jolting him abruptly out of his thoughts. He's lifted up, his feet leaving the ground. 

 

The pressure around his neck builds, tighter and tighter, until he can't breathe. A sickening pounding is pulsing through his skull, like his thoughts are bloody and throbbing. 

Black dots swim across his blurring vision and he can feel himself thrashing wildly. If there was any air left in his lungs, he would be screaming. 

“ _Undying_ fidelity,” repeats Thanos, almost piteously. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

“And you,” Loki rasps weakly, “should remember mine.”

Somehow, hanging listlessly in Thanos’ iron grip, Loki find the energy to smirk his vulpine, trickster’s grin.

Then he vanishes. 

Behind Thanos, the real Loki reappears in a bright flash of green light. A long, wickedly gleaming sword is in his grip. 

Before Thanos has a chance to even turn around, Loki raises the sword and swings it. The blade finds its mark; right below Thanos’s elbow. 

The razor-sharp, enchanted edge of the blade slices right through flesh and bone as if it’s butter. His left hand, with the gauntlet attached, falls to the floor with a disgusting _crunch_. Sticky violet blood stains the grass, and it has sprayed right across Loki’s front, too. Loki feels a little sick as he breathes in the iron stench of blood.

All the same, he can't keep the devilish smirk off his face. 

“I did tell you that I was the God of Mischief,” drawls Loki, taking vindictive pleasure in seeing Thanos stagger backwards with pain clearly written across his face.

“And you?” Loki snorts derisively. “You will never be a god.”

This time, his dagger is not stopped by any Infinity Stone as it sinks deep into Thanos’ neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course loki saved the day. i love loki so goddamn much. i'm so far up his ass that i can see out of his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> as i said, no one is permanently dead in this fic. i killed thor instead of loki but he will be revived soon.


End file.
